


down and dirty, you're loving me so loud

by tomorrows



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Birthday Sex, Bottom Harry, Daddy Kink, Exhibitionism, Lingerie Kink, M/M, PWP, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 21:11:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomorrows/pseuds/tomorrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's finally twenty and there's a few things he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	down and dirty, you're loving me so loud

**Author's Note:**

> you know how they tell you not to put anything on the internet you wouldn't want your parents to see?
> 
> well, here's to hoping my parents never get into gay porn

Louis is woken up from his nap by a warm hand around his cock, eagerly tugging and twisting it to hardness. He thinks for a second that he’s just dreaming, probably back in bed and grinding down against the mattress like a desperate fourteen year old, but he hazily recalls falling asleep on the patio and _his_ hand is definitely not the cause of his whimpering moans and shallow breaths.

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis exhales in a huff, eyes still shut tight as heat pools in his belly, a tight coiling that has him curling his toes and arching off his chair. “ _Fuck_ ,” he curses, breathless.

And Harry, because he is both the love of Louis' life and the reason why he's currently naked on their patio, has the audacity to rub his thumb against the slit of Louis’ cock and cooly respond with a bubbly, “Hi!”

“Christ, Harry. What the fu-ck **—** ” Louis manages to get out before Harry ducks his head and wraps his mouth around his length, humming pleasedly as he adjusts to the heavy weight on his tongue stretching his jaw open.

Louis eyes flash open and the first thing that he notices is the sun setting on the horizon - he must have been asleep for quite a while - coloring the California waters a soft goldening pink hue. The second thing he notices, of course, is the back of Harry’s head as he bobs up and down, burying his face into Louis’ lap. He’s still sitting on his own chair, though, feet planted flat on the side of it and facing Louis’ stretched out body as he works meticulously and hungrily around Louis’ cock.

Louis rolls his eyes to the back of his head when Harry pops off once to lightly trail his tongue along the underside, panting heavily as he tries to catch his breath. Louis’ right hand moves on its own accord to twist around the flattened curls at the back of Harry’s head, squeezing tightly because it spurs Harry on like mad, but also because he needs to ground himself when he notices from the corner of his eyes how Harry’s moved his hands behind his back pleasantly, obediently. His knuckles are white and biceps flexed, but he doesn’t stop sucking and pushing further down on Louis’ cock, eager to bury his nose in the fine hairs and cut off his breathing just a little bit, just a lot.

Harry may be choking himself with a mouthful of cock, but Louis feels easily as breathless.

All this time Harry doesn’t say much besides the occasional whimper and desperate moan. Instead, it’s Louis violently groaning out a string of foul words, heart racing in his chest before the praises start slipping out, too, the way they always do. As he applauds Harry for being _so good_ _for daddy_ he slowly makes sure to push his head further into his lap, until he can feel himself hit the back of Harry’s throat; until Harry is shaking from the lack of air, but continuing to suck sloppily at Louis’ cock like his life depends on it.

Louis tightens his grip and pulls Harry off entirely for a short moment, letting him catch his breath because his face has gone a bit too red. Harry’s chest is flushed pink all the way down to his lacy red panties, the ones he’s been strutting around the house in all day. His _birthday panties_ , as he’d referred to them, where his cock sticks out at the top and Louis can see him leaking precome, darkening the thin, see-through fabric. The deep red color contrasts his soft-golden skin beautifully, complimenting Harry's body like it was made specifically with him in mind, and Louis is breathless at the sight.

Louis’ still got his hand fisted around the back of Harry’s head and he’s so caught up on the lace that just barely covers the curve of Harry’s bum where the fabric is wet and dark there, too, for some odd reason, that he doesn’t notice the way Harry’s lips quiver, slowly trying to lean down and mouth at Louis’ cock once more. When he does notice, though, Louis lets out an amused chuckle and untangles his fingers from Harry’s hair, letting him get back to wrapping his plush lips around the thick cock and sinking down.

Louis can feel himself getting dizzy with the overwhelming sensation; the warm heat around him, the tight circle of Harry’s mouth, the slick sounds of _up, down, up, down, mouth at the head, lick, down, up, down, up_ , a spontaneous rhythm that Harry’s just started - always focused on pleasing Louis, even when his air supply is being cut off.

Louis watches Harry with hooded eyes before his focus slips to Harry’s arched back and he finds himself eying at Harry’s lace-covered hole again. The fabric is _so thin_ , barely covering any of Harry’s cheeks - even has a little black bow at the top, because Harry is cute like that - but it’s hard to miss the wet patch, even harder to miss how the skin of Harry’s cheeks right around the edges of the panties are shiny and slick. Probably tasting like strawberry, he thinks to himself.

Louis bites his lower lip, trying to suppress the moan begging to slip out, and curiously picks his hand up. With a light touch Louis stretches his arm out and rests his palm on the curve of Harry’s arse, fingers grazing just barely to feel the rough pattern of the lace against his fingertips.

a

Harry hums around his cock, arching his back at the touch, and Louis thinks for a second that this angle must not be the easiest, that Harry’s back is going to give him hell in the morning. But Harry’s quite fond of the difficult angles and the aching burn, so he pushes that thought away and slowly lets his middle finger trail down the soft roundness of Harry’s arse.

Louis reaches the wet patch that clings to Harry’s hole and he’s not surprised when Harry’s shoulders start to shake as he pushes the darkened fabric in between his cheeks with his middle finger. Louis rubs at the entrance with his finger and notices how wet Harry’s hole is, how the fabric soaks it up, how Harry has to pull himself off of Louis’ cock because the rough lace feels so embarrassingly good inside him.

And Louis doesn’t even admonish him for stopping, is the thing. He’s far too interested in other matters right now - feels like his chest is going to explode with hunger - to force Harry to get him off with his mouth. Quite frankly, he’d rather delay his orgasm for as long as he possibly can, now that he’s aware of what Harry’s been up to.

“A little eager, weren’t we?” Louis whispers, mesmerized by how good it feels to dip his lace-covered finger inside Harry, who buries his face into Louis’ thighs, arms still held behind his back on their own.

Harry’s breath is hot when he mumbles, “You we-were sleep-ing,” into the flesh of Louis’ thigh.

“That why you woke me up? You wanted to ask for something?”

“ _Yes_ , please,” Harry nods, trying his absolute hardest to be patient, still panting with his eyes shut tight.

Louis slides his middle finger inside and down to the knuckle, brushing the walls of Harry’s loose and stretched hole with the lace and says, “Go on, then. Tell daddy what you want.”

Harry entire body shudders, clearly overwhelmed because they don’t get to do this often, but he likes it _so much_ , wishes his birthday was every day just for moments like this. “Wanna feel you,” Harry begs. “Can I ride you, daddy, _please_.”

His voice is so quiet, barely audible against the rush of the ocean’s waves, but the plea sounds so loud in Louis’ ear. He feels himself leak against his stomach, ears burning up and toes white where they’re curled at the end of the chair; his body giving the same reaction it always does when Harry begs like that, when Harry calls him _daddy_.

Harry’s always needed to let the word off his chest more than Louis’d orginally needed to use it, but now that they’ve brought it into their sex life with open arms, Louis can’t imagine a time that he wasn’t completely wrecked from just hearing Harry softly whimper _daddy_. It’s good, having Harry in his preferred submissive state, but it’s so much better when Harry is genuinely needy, a little nervous, even, to give certain bits of himself away to Louis, knowing he’ll be taken care of and that there’s nothing to be ashamed of because Louis will indulge him in it. He gives himself over because he trusts Louis, _wants_ him.

Louis pulls his finger out of Harry’s hole, feeling it flutter impatiently as he pulls out the panties that had gotten stuck in there, too, just a little bit, and rubs at the small of his back, trying to relieve a bit of the ache there before they begin.

“You okay, love?” Louis asks, because sometimes Harry gets a little ahead of himself, overwhelmed.

Harry lets himself catch his breath before exhaling one final, shaky breath and sitting up. “M’good, yeah.”

Louis smiles at him. He loves his boy very much, he truly does, even though his boy is officially a man now, technically. “C’mhere,” Louis whispers quietly. “Come to me.”

There’s barely a foot between their patio chairs, but Harry gets up on wobbly knees and settles down on Louis’ thighs, straddling him and taking another deep breath. “Don’t need prep,” he says confidently.

Louis grins, grabbing Harry’s arse in his palms and squeezing, like a reminder. “I know.”

Harry rolls his eyes and laughs just a little. He gets on his knees and slides up Louis’ body until he can wrap a hand around Louis’ throbbing cock and line it up against his entrance. Louis keeps his eyes on Harry’s the entire time, pupils blown wide and brows surprisingly not furrowed because this, riding Louis, is something Harry could do in his sleep, with an ease that only comes from years of eager repetition.

He’s still cupping Harry’s cheeks, so Louis does him the favor of pulling his panties to the side - because they both know that there’s no way Harry’s taking them off. Harry’s entrance flutters when it gets in contact with the head of Louis’ cock and soon enough, before Louis can give himself a minute to welcome the impossibly tight heat, Harry is clenching around him and sinking down slowly, small increments at a time, barely giving _himself_ a minute to adjust to the stretch. Louis knows from experience that Harry’s body must feel like it’s being ripped apart in two, but he also know how much Harry aches for that sensation, _likes it to hurt_ , so he lets him bottom out to his rushed pleasure and watches in awe.

“ _God_ , you feel good,” Harry whispers reverently. He closes his eyes, humming, and slowly starts to rock back and forth, grinding down in circles, giving himself a chance to build up his desperate rhythm.

It’s a little ridiculous, Louis thinks, because they’d just fucked late this morning a few hours ago before they’d decided for a nap on the patio with Louis completely naked and Harry in his tiny little red birthday panties. Still, Harry is relentless and clenches around Louis’ cock like it’s been years since he’s been fucked, like every time is the first, the best, the last, and he’s not eager to stop quite yet.

It is his birthday, after all. He’s allowed to be insatiable.

Overwhelmed with affection, Louis lets go of his grip around Harry’s arse and pulls him down for a kiss. Harry presses his bruised lips against his hungrily, sucking on his tongue and preening when Louis wraps a hand around the back of his neck and scratches at his scalp lightly with something pride and unconditional adoration. Underneath the wet slide of their mouths Louis can faintly taste himself on Harry’s tongue, right next to the subtle hint of their strawberry lube.

When they finally part for a gasp of air Harry puts his hands behind himself once more and starting to pull off and sink down, bouncing in his horribly languid pace, eyes still pleasantly closed. As he slides off, Louis can feel Harry’s fingers against the underside of his cock. Harry is gripping his cheeks, one in each large palm and pushing them apart, probably because of the panties. But Louis doesn’t doubt that Harry is squeezing roughly into his flesh with blunt nails for a separate purpose, too, and if his throbbing cock poking out from the panties is anything to go by, Harry’s probably only a few bounces away before he starts really losing himself.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” Harry cries as he picks up his speed and Louis starts thrusting upward, matching the snap of his hips. “ _Daddy_ ,” he gasps, voice low and desperate. He hiccups, “Lou, fu-ck, _please_.”

If they were anywhere else - on a tour bus, in a hotel room, in the toilets underneath a stage - Louis would have to clamp his hand over Harry’s mouth and tell him to quiet down, that good boys don’t curse; daddy doesn’t like foul mouths.

But here, in their home by the ocean, Louis doesn’t want to do that. He wants Harry to be loud, to scream and beg and cry because there’s no one even remotely close to make them feel like they should be ashamed, to go running to a gossip rag, to tell them that their silly lust-ridden relationship isn’t worth risking an entire franchise for. Louis wants Harry to let himself go, to hear his own voice echo in their private space. This is their _home_. This is _their_ home, and Louis loves his boy _so_ much, would give up the entire world if he asked for it, so he absolutely refuses to hold him back, to restrict him, limit him as if there’s something dirty and shameful about the way their bodies pressed together feels like infinity.

Louis grabs Harry by the hair and pulls him down for another kiss and this time it’s slower, hungrier, because Louis isn’t willing to stop. He never wants to forget the feel of Harry’s lips against his, hopes there’s never a day where he’ll have to.

“Love you so much,” he pants, pecking and peppering Harry mouth with kisses.

“Love **—** ” Harry gets out before a shiver runs through his body and his shoulders shake. “Oh, _God_ ,” he cries, quickly picking up his pace as he keeps his angle where Louis’ cock brushes against his bundle of desperate nerves.

Louis snaps his hips upward, feeling so bloody close himself, before he slides his legs to either side of the chair and slowly sits up, Harry still a whimpering mess in his arms. He continues kissing Harry, savoring the feeling of his soft, wet lips against his own and the way Harry’s lips are puffy and bruised. Harry wraps his long, bare legs around Louis, sitting up in his lap now and bouncing in concentration and he chases after his orgasm.

“ _Daddy_ ,” he whispers against Louis’ mouth quietly, hesitantly.

Louis pecks his reddened lips in reassurance and hums, “What do you need, baby? Tell me what you want.”

Harry lets out a shaky breath, trying to collect himself. Silently, he moves an arm and brings it forward to entwine his fingers with Louis’. He waits another second before guiding their locked hands behind his back, letting go and resting Louis’ palm against his right cheek as he keeps his grip on his left one. It’s a silent plea that has Louis opening up his eyes and putting a couple of inches between their bodies so he can look Harry in the eyes, get some sort of confirmation out of him.

“Twenty,” is all that Harry says, head ducked as he slows down with his bouncing.

The angle is a little tough, Louis will admit, with Harry placed securely on his lap, but there’s a spark in his belly that refuses to say no to Harry, not with the way his cock throbs inside his arse and Harry lets up an overwhelmed moan.

“Twenty,” Louis repeats.

Harry rests his forehead against the crook of Louis’ neck and nods. “Twenty.”

“No moving, then,” Louis says in a voice much more forceful.

Harry shakes his head quickly, “Won’t, won’t. Promise.”

“Just gonna take all twenty with me inside of you, yeah? Gonna keep count?”

Harry nods once more, breath catching at the images that flood his head. He squeezes his arse just once, digging his nail into the flesh.

Louis leans back against the chair, thankful that the angle is enough to have Harry curving his arse up in the air, eagerly awaiting their birthday gift. Twenty is a big number, he thinks to himself, and they’ve never really gone past fifteen, but maybe this is their chance to see how much Harry’s soft skin can handle. How much Harry can handle.

With Louis’ cock still inside him, Harry unwraps his legs and sets them flat on either side of the chair, just like Louis. He leans down and rests his chest against his Louis, confining his wet, lace-covered cock between their bodies. The rough fabric mixed with the hot pulsing of Harry’s cock feels _so good_ against Louis’ bare stomach and he doesn’t know how Harry can keep from rubbing up against him, has to applaud him for just that much alone.

Harry pries his left hand off his cheek and moves his fingers to where their bodies are connected. “Can I **—**?” Harry asks nervously. He pushes the tips of two fingers against the underside of Louis’ cock, like he’s making sure Louis doesn’t slide out in the midst of what’s about to occur.

“Y-Yeah,” Louis says breathlessly.

Harry nods once more and the two of them give themselves a moment to catch their breaths before they start.

“M’ready,” Harry whispers, gulping.

Louis clears his throat and takes a deep breath.

The first smack is loud and fast, Louis quickly pulling his hand off Harry’s arse as soon as he’s spanked him. Harry tenses up against him, clenching his hole around Louis’ cock.

“One,” he counts off obediently.

For the next one Louis uses his left hand to slap Harry’s left cheek, the one still covered in lace where it's pushed aside to make way for Louis’ cock.

“Two,” Harry counts, his voice low and throaty.

Enjoying the way that Harry’s skin gets so _hot_ against the lace, Louis gives the next three to that same cheek, back to back. His hand stings a bit at the end of it, but he can’t imagine what it must feel like for Harry, who’s fallen quiet.

“How many,” Louis demands, and it's not a question.

Harry gulps. “Three, four. Fi **—** ”

Louis brings his hand to the reddened skin before Harry can even finish, louder this time than all the previous slaps of skin.

“ _Six_ ,” Harry yells breathlessly. His hand shakes where his arm is stretched behind him, keeping Louis’ cock inside, the free one gripping Louis’ shoulder with white knuckles.

Louis gives the next five just as quickly, alternating between each side. He delivers three on the right and the last two on the left, again. Harry continues counting them off, ready to collapse when he gets out a barely audible, “ _Eleven_.” Louis makes sure to rub at the hot skin and caress it so it doesn’t burn _too_ much, alleviating some of the pain if only to make the next smack that much more surprisingly painful. To his surprise Harry makes it to fourteen before he starts rutting against him, desperate for some friction on his cock and grinding his hips down for further, deeper, _just a little, daddy, please_.

When Louis gives the fifteenth and sixteenth at the same time it’s not so much to please Harry as it is to punish him. His hands sting unbearably but he’s relentless with his force and the sound of the slaps almost drown out the cry that Harry lets out, but not quite.

Louis presses his mouth to Harry’s ear and threatens, “Do you want to stop at sixteen?”

Harry’s forehead is hot where it’s pressed against Louis’ collarbone. He shakes his head no, repeatedly, but his skin is slick with sweat and his eyes are tearing up, his hole clenching with a vice-like grip around Louis’ cock like it refuses to be separated from it. Empty. He’s _so close_ and his whole body is on fire, the California air taking Louis’ side and stubbornly refusing to cool him off. Harry can feel the last rays of sunshine on his back, reminding him that although this is their home, their private property, they’re still fucking outside on their patio; he’s still got Louis’ cock up his arse and Louis’ handprints can probably still be seen on his cheeks from 30,000 feet up in the air.

“Don’t stop,” Harry begs quietly, “M’gonna be good, promise. I swear, daddy. Sorry, sorry, _plea_ **—** ”

He’s cut off by seventeen, a slap so sudden that Louis accidentally hits at part of Harry’s quivering, strained thigh.

“How many?” Louis grits out. He’s starting to worry that Harry’s not going to make it to twenty, an uncharted territory, and he’s starting to doubt that _he’ll_ be able to keep himself from coming, too, still wrapped up in Harry’s merciless heat. He needs to make the next few fast despite how much he and Harry both want to draw this out, because he refuses to let either one of them come before they hit twenty, quite literally.

Harry sinks his teeth into Louis’ neck, right above his collarbone, and sucks with an open mouth. “Seventeen,” he mumbles into the skin.

Louis eyes roll back and lids fall shut as he bares his neck for Harry. “Gonna make it to twenty, aren’t you?”

Harry nods, lapping over his teeth marks with his tongue.

“Gonna be a good birthday boy for daddy,” Louis hums in a daze, praising Harry, who preens and arches his back that much more, pressing himself even closer to Louis’ chest though it’s physically impossible at this point. “ _So good_.”

Eighteen comes with Louis’ left hand, eyes still closed and aim better this time. At the smack Harry bites into Louis' flesh with sharp teeth, muffling his throaty moan. It takes him a moment to slow down his breathing and will away the orgasm that’s begging for release.

Louis’ neck is scattered with little imprints of teeth marks, blossoming an angry red color and slick with saliva and sweat when Harry pulls his mouth off to exhale quietly, “ _Eighteen_.”

And Louis so badly needs some friction on his cock that as soon as the number leaves Harry’s lips his hips buck up on their own accord, jostling Harry’s tense, clinging figure with a thrust. “ _Fuck_ ,” he mutters angrily, both hands still cupping Harry’s reddened skin.

Louis opens up his eyes and Harry picks his head up. The two of them lock eyes and for a moment they both acknowledge just how wrecked this has left them both, their cocks neglected and orgasms staved off for far too long.

Harry, without a doubt, is having a much harder time with this, not having been able to calm his racing heart for even a couple of seconds since they’ve started, but he’s so determined, even with tears streaming from his eyes, that he grinds down on Louis’ lap, presses two fingers to the protruding vein on the underside of Louis’ cocks, and arches his back so that his arse is just a little more presented, red and in the air with very little patience.

Louis presses his mouth against Harry’s and sucks on his tongue as he flexes his right hand, planting nineteen with excitement and pride.

Harry tenses up on his lap, barely getting out a, “ _Nine_ **—** _,_ ” before Louis gives him the final twentieth on his lace-covered left cheek, the hardest one of them all by a landslide. Harry sobs out a moan as he collapses against Louis’ chest, incapable of even speaking.

At the same moment that Louis gives him his twentieth birthday spanking he begins fucking up into Harry relentlessly. He snaps his hips and wraps his overheated, reddened hands around Harry’s thin waist and lifts him up and down, making sure they meet each other with every thrust. When Louis finally brushes against his prostate, Harry arches up and wraps his tired arms around Louis’ neck, panting heavily.

Harry feels so unbearably exhausted and overwhelmed. His vision is blurry, skin stinging _everywhere_ , senses on overdrive. But the combination of every little ache in his body rouses him, spurred on by the way Louis is splitting him in half, controlling his body like Harry’s so light, pliant and loose in his arms for Louis to handle like he’s weightless.

And Harry wants to be _so good_ _for daddy_ , just like he’d promised, so he begins rocking his hips back and forth, clenching around Louis’ throbbing cock and bouncing on his own accord, yelling out profanities because no one can fucking stop him here. Not in their home.

Louis’ not sure who comes first, but around the time that Harry yells out his fiftieth, “ _fuckfuckfuck, daddy_ ,” Louis feels his orgasm wash over him like the waves that crash against the shore, vision going white and sparks exploding against his eyelids when he squeezes them shut. He comes forever, it feels like, filling Harry up without an apology, but Harry does so, too, marking both their chests with hot, white streaks.

“Fuck,” Louis exhales when he finally catches his breath. He slides out slowly, feeling Harry’s hole pulse around him and flutter at the loss when he’s finally out.

Harry slumps against Louis’ chest and pants for a few moments. He can’t feel his bones, can barely get himself to open up his eyes, but there’s come on his belly, come in his arse, tear streaks on his cheeks, and sweat _everywhere_. He feels a bit disgusting and a lot like he’s on cloud nine, unable to keep the droopy grin off his face. If he could physically get himself to move he’d jump into the ocean right now, just like this, but he’s entirely dead weight as it is. He’d probably sink straight down like the anchor on his wrist, he thinks, attached to Louis’ body.

Louis, thankfully, wraps Harry up in his arms and holds him close. “Still with me, baby?” he whispers into his hair.

“ _Mmm_ ,” Harry nods lazily. “S’good. Feel dirty.”

Louis laughs, “Want me to clean you up?” He digs his knuckles into the small of Harry’s back, trying to relieve some of the tension that must have amounted from all his obscene arching.

“Don’wanna move,” Harry grumbles, burying his face against his neck and sighing contentedly.

Louis looks down at him and for a moment it kind of dawns on him that Harry is _twenty_ now. Twenty whole years old and no longer a teenager or the soft, round boy he met in the toilets all those years ago. Everything in his life since Harry came along has moved at warp speed, it seems, and Louis can barely wrap his mind around where the time has gone; how the fuck Harry managed to become twenty whole years old without so much as addressing Louis about it first.

It’s ridiculous, he thinks, but he realizes then that he’s loved so many versions of Harry in the years they’ve had each other. Sixteen year old Harry with the chubby cheeks and soft edges. Seventeen year old Harry with the stage fright and golden skin. Eighteen year old Harry with the dimpled smirk and insatiable hunger. Nineteen year old Harry with the long legs and unconditional devotion. Louis’ loved so many versions of Harry; the Harry the gossip rags think they know, the Harry the fans think they know, the Harry the band knows, the Harry their families know.

There’s just _so much_ to Harry, almost like God - or whatever greater being that gifted Louis with this boy - had accidentally added a little too much of everything when making him, giving him something that everyone wants a bite of.

There are so many layers and versions and parts of Harry that Louis has gotten the chance to know, taken a bite out of, and loved. All because Harry had been willing to let him; had been willing to give himself to Louis in his entirety without so much as a second thought. Fate and soulmates, they always say, but now Harry is twenty and Louis isn’t sure what’s waiting for him in the next twelve months. But if there’s any part of his life that Louis doesn’t doubt, it’s that Harry is his, solely, and that Harry will love him for many years to come, past twenty years old and thirty-five years old, and hopefully until ninety-eight years old.

“Happy birthday, baby,” Louis whispers quietly.

The sun has nearly set now and there’s finally a cool breeze rolling in. The ocean is constant at the shore and Harry is heavy on his chest, like home.

“Twenty,” says Harry in sleepy daze.

Louis takes a deep breath. “Twenty, yeah.”

“S’good, innit?”

“Definitely.”

They’re going to get uncomfortable soon and Harry will no doubt start whining about the come still in his arse - and then he’ll whine about his _ruined birthday panties, Louis, gosh_ \- but for just this moment they’re good.

Louis will eventually clean them up, kiss Harry’s bruised and aching and reddened skin, and they’ll go for a dip in the ocean when it gets darker and cooler, only coming out when their skin is pruney and lips bruised all over again from salty kisses. Harry will make dinner in nothing but celebratory forest green panties and Louis will put their dirtied sheets and panties and shorts into the wash and they’ll go to bed, eventually, worn out and blissfully welcoming _twenty_.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe baby is 20 years old!!!  
> title is from Justin Timberlake's Gimme What I Don't Know (I Want)  
> sorry for any typos or mistakes or errors - or kinks you're not into (that Harry definitely is) - but (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・✧  
> and happy birthday to Emily!!! hope you enjoyed it bundt cake ♡♡♡ 
> 
> finally, a reminder that you probably don't love Harry Styles as much as Louis Tomlinson does  
> 
> [tumblr](http://tornorrows.tumblr.com)


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